Dramione Drabbles
by Dairire
Summary: "A smouldering cigarette lays dying at my feet, it's amber glow, my golden days. They all mix. And every memory takes the form of you." Drabbles of DMHG
1. The Hand

_Just some unrelated drabbles of Draco and Hermione._

**_Disclaimer: JKR owns everything Harry Potter related *sigh*_**

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**The wrist, the thumb, the finger; The Hand**

He grabbed my hand and sprinted. My lungs burned and my vision blurred. Bright burst of colour lit the darkness behind us as we ducked and weaved through the God forsaken forest. The branches splayed overhead, engulfing us in a perpetual night.

The intricate network of twigs and leaves left gashes on our arms. Crimson trails of blood following in our wake. Then a shot of green light brightened the forest and the never ending darkness receded for a heartbeat.

I almost saw your life flash before your sunken eyes and I wondered would you remember this moment. The feel of my sweaty hand enclosed in your, your nails tearing my skin and the leaves that were curling in on themselves seeking warmth tickling our thighs.

Your eyes met mine. Vacant, terrified, beautiful and unseeing. A dull thud echoed repeatedly, both in the forest and my head, as you fell and my hand was bared for all the world to see. I leaped into the eternal darkness away from the gleeful shouts and your warm fingers intertwined with mine.

I hope we meet again Draco.

Because these hands miss yours.


	2. A Good Day

**Everyone who reviewed the last drabble, thank you so much. I heart you.**

_So, this is a bit different from my usual style. It's actually only a Dramione if you squint! Kind of a mix between reality and fiction really..So let me know if you like it and I've a couple more I could put up. Or if you have to squint too much. Hmm, I think that's everything :)_

* * *

So today was actually a pretty good day. I barely thought about you at all, the only way I knew you weren't there is because I didn't feel the constant urge to look up and make sure you were okay, to make sure no one and nothing hurt you.

And I hope they never do. I hope your worries are small and your smile large because honestly that smile contains enough volts of electricity to light all of New York ten times over, and my heart indefinitely.

And wow, that was corny, but that's what happens when I think of you. I go all sappy and corny. Maybe not sappy enough to actually tell you any of this, maybe not brave enough to give you a hug, maybe not pretty enough to fall in love with. But enough that I can write it down here, iron filings on white paper.

And maybe someday I'll be sappy enough to give you this, but for now I'm going to put this in my drawer and shut it tightly and maybe go watch a sappy movie and try and move you out of that little corner of my heart with your name stencilled across it and into the black recess of my mind and see if your smile manages to light up even its darkest corners.


	3. Cat and Mouse

_This one is for __**zzzooe**__, I hope if you're ever angry at, or about, him reading this'll help._

* * *

So I've played your games, I've been the mouse-chasing cat and, honestly, I'm sick of it.

I'm not graceful or effortlessly elegant like a feline. I'm clumsy and, at times, I think ugly. So I'm done pretending to be someone I'm not. If you want to fall in love with a cat then go spend time with _her._ But for now I'm going to be the mouse and see will you give chase. Or maybe you'll stay a mouse and we'll be equal and there'll be no more games.

But everything is a game to you.


	4. Rainy Days

_Yes, yes I'm alive! (: Anyway, this was written in 5minutes, literally, so far from my best work._

_This it **for everyone who asked for it**, where would I be without you?_

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And she fell to her knees the thorns cutting a million tiny pinpricks across her skin. A thunderstorm fell from her eyes making the torrential downpour drowning her seem meager in comparison. Her heart felt. . Her heart didn't feel. It was as if someone had grabbed a shovel and pierced her with it before scooping out her heart and burying underground.

And the pain seared every inch of her soul, every inch of her being, not even the falling rain could end her misery. It only added fuel to the flames. She wrapped her arms around her tormented knees and wept, cursing her mother, her father, Harry, Ron and _Him_. Rocking back and forth her dirt encrusted hair struck her body repeatedly. The world, new and full of promise, without threat, but in desperate need of restoration was lost to her. As was her heart which, in a way, did lie underground. Buried alongside him..

A rooster crowed warning of a new day.

She didn't notice.

* * *

_Yes quite gloomy, a happy one next time. . hopefully! _

_Daírire X_


	5. Yes

_This one is for my darling friend **Eimear**, or **galwaygossipgirl**, who puts up with my erractic mood swings, constant bombardment of emails and rambling with a smile on her face._

_Happy Birthday Sweetie, I hope I'll be writing one of these for you this time next year too, or closer to your actual birthday!_

_Hope you had a good one. X_**  
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Yes.

Yes, I looked at him.

Yes, his misdirected smiles and stolen glances awoke a swarm of dormant, violent butterflies in my abdomen.

Yes, his moody, melancholic stare out the window, as if on the other side of the glass lay the answers to all his questions, struck the beginning cord of a beautiful melody inside me.

Yes, I desperately wanted to be the answer he was seeking.

Yes, I wanted to run my fingers through his gorgeous, floppy, existent hair. Unlike yours.

.

And yes, I thought of you for a spilt second.

For a heartbeat.

Because you'll always own that piece of me darling.

The first boy to..the first boy. My boy. My man.

And you're there in every breath I take. In every tick the countdown of my heart makes.

But you severed all ties. You cut the millions of steel cables linking me to you.

Now only lightning shaped cracks in the pavement, running underground around the whole world and surfacing inconstantly, connect us. And no matter where you move geographically, no matter how far you travel physically, those cracks will appear. And I hope you think of avoiding cracks in the pavement holding my hand, breathless, all those years ago. I hope I think of you.

You set me free.

And maybe he'll be the answering tock to the tick of my heart.

But I still step on every crack I see.

* * *

_Love, sundrenched days and unplayed pianos,_

_Daírire X_


	6. A Letter to Mr Right

_And this one is for **zzzooe**, Happy Belated Birthday :) I hope we'll still be here in ten years time writing pointless drabbles and random soul bearing messages to each other. X_

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Dear You,

I've a box of letters hidden in my drawer for you. Buried under a myriad of memories.

Photographs, birthday cards and notes surreptiously passed.

The little things, everyone has told me, make life worth living. Those I do long to forget. I want to make new memories with you, take photo's you can almost hear us laughing in, stroll along the beach hands clasped and curl up at your side whenever the nigts seem long.

I see you everywhere. Strolling alongs sundrenched streets in Paris, sipping a cup of coffee in Mocha Beans, laughing, your eyes shining, in my head. I look for you in every face I see and I dream of you at night. A faceless, nameless stranger waiting for me. Just waiting.

I've lost friends, time and bus tickets. I hope your not sitting along side these meaningless items in my lost and found box. Because it will be a long time before those cobwebs are assaulted by daylight. Because what's in the past is best left there. Right? I hope you're not lurking somewhere in there. I hope I didn't find you and lose you somewhere admist violent wars and bad hair days.

I hope I'll meet you someday and we'll grow old and grey together.

Is it strange that I already miss you?

Yours,

- HG

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Hmm, I actually quite like this one. Would anyone like a seqeul where Hermione writes a letter when she has found her perfect man? This is actually a (very) adapted extract from something bigger I'm working on, so all feedback is greatly appreciated :)

_Love, Prince Charmings and Happily-Ever-Afters,_

_Daírire X_


	7. Shadows

_Only a few more days left of summer for me and some only getting their holidays now. So whether summer has been and gone or is just around the corner what were you're plans this year?_

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Shoes imprison freedom loving feet. Your hands imprison mine.

Your feet clatter along the pavement dancing to the beat of a different time.

I sing softly to you. About you.

Because you're the you in every love song.

The bees build pollen towers drenching everything in a golden glamour.

Or maybe that's just you.

The shadows of the trees surrounding us begin to move. They inch closer demanding our surrender. We try to ignore them. Oh how ignorance is bliss. Soon we're walking in single file. Your feet still moving to the beat of a different time.

And the setting sun paints a tie dyed sky while a trickle of light nestles among your hair. And we're blinded by the glowing orb, by each others eyes, to what's ahead; to the heated fights and bitter tears.

So all that exists is here and now.

.

Until the shadows grow and consume us and our demons won't be ignored anymore.

Until the moons casts eerie beams and you begin to fear every silken shadow; everyone.

.

It's cold here without you.

.

Wake me up when it's morning love.

When I can see, when I can breathe.


	8. Black and White

_I still hear the sound of you_

* * *

The trees lining the road sing of autumn and warn of winter's imminent arrival. A town spewing people out of bars and clubs, the pulsing music following them, ears ringing. I stumble dizzily, the world falling off its axis, all the colours blending together. Everything black and white.

I miss those shades of grey.

Half lidded eyes blearily catch a glimpse of blue, and that sweater you lived in.

Live in?

Drunkenly I power towards you. Outraged yells echo in my mind. None particularly coherent. The mould of blue in my one coloured dimension moves and I know it's not you. He doesn't possess your easy grace or your wiry frame that held me close. That was moulded by my touch.

My eyes fill and my stomach clenches in a way that feels like one thousand iron claws are scratching it. I can't breathe. I can't feel calm without seeing you.

A light, soothing rain falls from the sky. The streets empty. A smouldering cigarette lays dying at my feet, it's amber glow, my golden days. They all mix.

And every memory takes the form of you.

.

The rain washes colour from the street. It's heavier now. There's no one here anymore. Until there is and he's offering me your jacket. And it doesn't smell like you, but it feels like home.


	9. Closer

Closer, come closer.

I can feel your eyelashes caress my hair. You're still not close enough. Wrap your arms around me until I can't breathe. Pull me into the warmest hug I've ever known. Until I stop shaking.

Until my leg stops twitching, and my can eyes close. Swirls of darkness control my vision. They won't control me.

I blink rapidly against your bare chest. Did you feel that darling? Fingers twined in unruly masses of curls. My eyes still can't close. All I ever see in the darkness is it. And then. And that feeling of terror. Of being frozen and delicate. Of my time reckoning coming and my short, twirling strand being snapped from it's intertwining ones. It's falling. I'm falling.

Hold me closer.

I can only feel calm when you're around. I can only close my eyes when you smother them in kisses. I can only see beauty when you stand in front of me. I only feel safe when you walk into the room.

I can only feel calm when I'm in your arms.

Hold me closer, love.

Swear you'll never let me go.

I'm still falling.


	10. Something Beautiful

Clouds blaze across the sky, alight with the reflection of the descending sun. The leaf's rustle echoes down the hollow trunk, deep into the ground where memories lie and days wait. Where someone, somewhere realises a tree is calling them.

Because someone, somewhere is always doing something beautiful.

Just not you.

And the leaf flourishes, inflating.

So the hidden valleys enclosed in the leaf become chasms; filled with rushing water and all things good. Then, in no time at all, the gaping abyss becomes a little less gaping and all things good flow to another leaf. One who needs them more.

And the leaf is left hanging upside down in a space it thought it knew back to front. And the days become dimmer and the nights become longer until one day. It's gone.

Falling.

Falling.

Never stopping.

Until suddenly, you do. And you're the newest layer of a growing tribute to Autumn. Then you're gone, only the memory of an echo where dreams rest. And soon you won't even be that.

Just like us.

But somewhere, someone is doing something beautiful.

Just not us.


	11. Written in the Stars

_Dialogue. Actual dialogue :)_

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The sky's powder blue. The type of colour that soothes a weary soul and drenches you in soft lullabies. "I want to paint our child's nursery this colour." I breathe into the hollow of your neck. Your arms tighten around my waist. I can't breathe. Did I ever want to? You're so solid, too surreal.

The clouds flow together. Clumps of them, the texture softer, more alive. As if Heaven is one giant bouncing castle. The wind blows past my ears, threading blades of grass with my hair. Shuddering, I push closer to you. Envelop me in your warmth, drown me in your scent. My eyes flicker shut.

"Sweetheart," you rouse me, "Look." Following your gaze I glance up to the lone star who's turned out to watch tonight's revels. Your lips rush my forehead.

"Make a wish."

How could I ever want anything more than I have now? Than your arms and this little piece of earth. Maybe my fate is written in that star. Maybe it was aligned in the moment of my birth, maybe my future lies in its glow, maybe my past is hidden in its light. Perhaps it's here to watch my story unfold.

Unlikely.

"That's Draco," you murmur, "the brightest star in the sky, That's me." I laugh carelessly. "You're here love."

"No, I'm not," you smile.

Turning rapidly I fight to grab your luminous eyes, ghostly eyes, as a silver mist snakes towards the lone burst of light.

.

My fate is written in that star.


	12. Running Home

You swept into my world via the broken path of friendship.

A blur of beauty and passion. The start of love poems.

Now you're setting everything alight and you're burning every bridge I've ever built.

Except the leading me to you.

I'm running home.


	13. Enchanted

_It's snowing here everyone, Christmas feels like it's just around the corner and I've reverted to my childhood ways. _

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_"And the best lines I've ever written_  
_I plagiarized every word from the thoughts of your's_  
_I heard while you were just sitting in silence."_

**Andrea Gibson**_  
_

You came barrelling towards, reminiscent of the way we met. Your eyes downcast, your hands shoved into the depths of your pockets. You won't find the answers you're seeking in there love. I swear the snow beneath your feet is turning to water in fear and no flakes dare fall on your person. I smile awkwardly behind the safety of the window screen and your eyes lock on mine as if they could, would, travel through time and space for me. No smile graces your lips, just this knowing glint in your eyes that slays me every time. And that awkward please-marry-me-smile threatens to slip of my face until it gone, melted with the snow around your feet.

Still our tension filled gaze lingers cutting through my shield of glass down into the very core of my heart into that little corner that's been chanting your name since the moment I met you. In slow motion you're passing my window and suddenly, in a beautiful, beautiful way, your hand emerges from your pocket, raw red, and you raise a solitary finger.

I'd love to say at that point you realised salvation didn't lie in their depths, that you knew the answers you were so desperately seeking could never be deciphered by counting stitches, but that would be a lie.

The seed of truth floundered somewhere in there, the truth that your elevation of a body part threw a fire over me that burned my stomach into a thousand knots. I saw my future in your raising of that digit; Exhausted dancing by the fire until we collapse in a heap of tangled limbs and love. Screams from our latest fight resounding through the house and the way you'd fold me into your arms thourghout. Walking down the aisle blindly towards a silhouette, faceless and nameless no longer.

That finger lit a spell over the whole world until all the snow was was a clean slate, a blanket of your forgiveness.

Then your hands find residence in your pockets once more and you slide easily into the car behind me with that confidence you don't even know you have. And you kiss the blonde who's watching, worshipping your every move. It's a joining of passion, of longing. Your hands cradle her face, seeking salvation in a new place.


	14. Dark Knights

_Number twenty. And if you're interested have a look at my new story 'Homeless'._

_Happy Christmas Everyone, not long now._

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So, do you do this often? Come sweeping in, knight in darkened armour? I suppose that should have given you away but I mistook armour for amour and I thought the darkness radiating off you in bursts of sadness and tears , my tears, was inexplicably linked to this mess your heart had become. The mess she made.

And me being me, I had to fix it. But you're unfixable. And I'm not unbreakable. And amour never meant love it always meant armour just like that light pouring through the window was never your salvation but a sun burning far too brightly, too harshly for any of us ever to be near it.

It's hidden now.

And I wish you'd come sweeping in the way you did before.

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**Amour: **French for Love.


	15. Of Dancing and Forgetting

Sorry everyone! I'm sure chapter update after chapter update had been filling up your email, I'm trying to get rid of the more embarrassing stories and I think I'm finally done. In the mean time..

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_"She kisses him in the same way that she dances. Like no-one is watching. Like she has forgotten herself."_

**Finding Mr. Flood; Ciara Geraghty**

She's already lost when he shows up, the music's captivated her and she's moving with a freedom she didn't even know existed. He slips in the back door, his hands stuck casually in his pockets, as if he's used of this. As if he's always late (and he'll always be that bit too late she'll soon learn.) She sees him. (How could she not? She's known more than her share of creeping unnoticed into parties, dinners, hearts. And so has he.) There's nothing spectacular about him, apart from his unruly hair that nearly engulfs his body. No, at first glance he's just him and she feels no need to unwrap another layer.

The night's passing by in flurry of champagne and freedom, dancing and forgetting. Until there's a tap on her shoulder (and spiders criss crossing her bared flesh) and he's there, his hand raised grasping for an invisible partner, some invisible chance.

Although the offers obvious she stands there, staring into eyes so blue they've caught the sky in them. "Dance with me." It falls from her lips, more of an order than a question, he looks relieved. (Just another knot on a rope that's slowly coming undone. Maybe he'll be the last one.) He's leading her across the floor in a blur of practised dance moves and she's liquid in his arms, wondering if there's more to this immature, perpetually late school boy than she thought

His lips haven't stopped moving since the dance began, since he walked into the room, impressions and anecdotes rolling off his tongue, until she stops him (The only way she knows how, because this is her and this is all she's ever known.) and he's kissing her back, fast and furious against her lips and so perfectly in time, like they've been dancing and kissing and_ falling _forever.

There isn't a spark but there's a piece of wood and she thinks, maybe one day, they'll light a fire and he'll burn down the world for her. Then she pulls herself from his lips and steps away (because running is all she knows, all she'll ever know.) and with a quick "Thank you." and a candle flicker of a smile she's gone.

And his world is a little bit colder.


	16. The Burnt Remnants of Them

He's been watching her since she opened the door, her head thrown back in laughter, forced of course it'll always be forced when she's not with him. Even if she doesn't know that yet.

Her eyes are the colour of the brandy he's been drowning in his sorrows, the brandy that's risen around him until he's not drowning his sorrows but swimming in them and all he can see, all he knows, is the burnt colour of it.

The burnt remnants of them.

She's glowing, in a dress so white he's blinded for a moment and she's looking his way. And then she isn't and he's missed their last chance. He's missed her missing him all because he's memorising every plane of her face, every shake of her hips, every numbered breath she draws.

He can see the future exploding out of the best parts of her in plumes of hope and relief that he's only ever felt around her. (And she's only ever felt around him.) Her heart's beating an orchestra's lament. He laughed when he told her he knew the music her heart made. Laughed and kissed him and melted gold with her smile, melted him with her kiss. He wondered would she still laugh if he told her he was straining to block out any sound but her's?

He doesn't know. And neither does she. She's known for having the answers to questions, for being the answer to questions but really she doesn't have a fucking clue. She'd never known what home was until she'd stumbled on Hogwarts, she'd never known what love was until the first drops of rain splashed kisses on her cheeks and she was reborn and she was reborn for no other reason than to love him.

But she wasn't his to love because pieces of paper and twisted bands of metal mean more in this life than all the money in the world. Because stolen nights and stolen hearts and stolen kisses are just that and at some point you have to stop living life looking over your shoulder and focus both eyes on the stark reality where stolen products can be traced by a serial number. (Because sometimes love just isn't enough.)

Sometimes_ they _aren't enough.

He slips his hand into his jacket pocket, the metal's warm from the heat of his body.

.

She can't wait for the future.

Too bad she'll never see it.

.

A gunshot.

Screams.

A symphony of footsteps.

Bang.

Darkness.

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_A/N: I showed this to two of my friends and they both had completely different theories of what happened at the end to me (And not entirely flattering opinions!). Any guesses? I'll reveal mine in the next update - whenever that may be! _

_**Our thoughts and wishes are with the people of Japan today. **  
_

_Dairíre X_


	17. I Will Follow You into the Dark

"You wanted this," she sighs, "Not me. You've no right to look at me like that anymore."

"Like what?" A a sad smile pulls the corners of his lips but it's stretched too thin for her to ever remember, and she don't know what she's doing here anymore. (Here as in this universe, filled with more beauty than she'll ever know. Here as in this part, a celebration full of people she's known forever that she never wants to see again. Here as in this forgotten broom closet, probably the closest thing she'll ever know to hell on earth.)

.

_1994; August 4th_

_The day's heavy with the burn of a July sun as you tried to find God in the crooked blades of grass beneath your head. Instead you stood and found Malfoy behind you, a blanket gripped in his hands and, even though you had been about to leave the blanket passes from one wanderer to another and you cover those blades of grass. There is no God here. You lie dazed in the sun's rays for longer than you planned to because you're twenty one years old and tired of never seeing the same bed twice._

_(You claimed you never found God that day._

_Maybe you knew the truth all along.)_

_.  
_

"Like what?" He says again, harsher this time. (This is how she knows him.) "I – I - Like you know me," amazed the words still know the way to her mouth and he leans over until the strands of hair falling around his face fall onto hers. Falling.

It's always been falling with him.

.

_1994_; _August 4th_

_"So you ready, Granger?" The sun spills pitfalls across your path. (You make a note to avoid them) before turning to face him, shrouded in the shadow; more hidden in the darkness than the daylight, but he'd always belonged to the darkness before you. (Maybe that's why you chose this closet, so he'll feel like he belongs. So maybe he would stay just a little while longer.) The sun's lower than you expected and you're feeling a little tipsy, like the sunlight's been poured into your veins. (You check to make sure you're not glowing - you don't think so. But maybe he does – just a little bit, mind you.) You giggle, breaking some kind of spell and the sun dips so low the pitfalls move. (They're hoping you won't notice how them leading you astray. So is he.) His face is thrown completely into the shadow andyou can pretend he's just some stranger you shared a sundyed afternoon with._

_"Just a stranger, just a stranger, just a stranger," you chant pressing your lips to his, a fire thrown across the path before you and onto your very souls. But you don't notice. You don't notice anything but the feel of his hand curling into you hair and the rustle of your clothes against each other. Nothing outside the echo of your "Maybe."_

_.  
_

"I do know you." It's a promise. That he still knows her, even after all these years, that he's been the only one who could ever read those twisted words of her and rearrange them until there's nothing left but a bouquet of letters and his name. And she almost wants to believe him but he's already ripped out the ending to their story (and her heart). He's leaning closer to her still until the years sketched across his face dim and the lines between then and now, who you were then and who you are now, blur and you're lost again in the tempest of '94.

_(Because you've bid farewell to a thousand heroes but you'll always follow him into the dark.)_

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**A/N:** **10/5/11 The italics are her memories of '94 and the non italics are the present. Also the switching between pronouns ('she' and 'you') was show who she was then and how she's different now, but she still feels trapped in '94 so she's referred to as you in the past instead of the present. Hope that didn't confuse anyone! **_  
_


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